


Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's Wicked Mouth

by teprometo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teprometo/pseuds/teprometo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has an obsession. Malfoy has an attitude. Kreacher has a mission?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's Wicked Mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drarryxlover](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=drarryxlover).



> Written for [drarryxlover](http://drarryxlover.livejournal.com) as a Secret Santa gift. Writing this is how I spent Christmas Eve 2010. A good night. :-)

Fuck. Malfoy was doing it again. Wrapping his lips around that bloody spoon as if it were a stiff prick.

No, Harry reminded himself, _he’s wrapping his lips around the spoon as if it were a spoon, you bloody wanker_. Harry was the one insisting on finding sexual innuendo in a pudding-covered spoon. The spoon, Harry reflected, was probably innocuous enough. It was Malfoy’s please-push-your-cock-past-me lips that had him wound up so tight he was stabbing his fork a bit too ardently into his raspberry torte.

“Harry, you’re meant to eat that, not murder it,” Hermione whispered from his left side.

“Mm?” Harry looked down and saw his mangled dessert. “Right,” he said and scooped some of the treat into his mouth. It was sweet and smooth and nowhere near as enjoyable as Malfoy’s pudding looked.

Harry carefully set down his fork, chewed, swallowed, and took one more glance at Malfoy’s pornographic eating show before feeling the need to exit the Great Hall immediately. Malfoy was now using his finger to scrape the last remnants of his bowl into his mouth, which showed table manners entirely unbefitting of a Malfoy, but Harry couldn’t dwell on that too much as he watched Malfoy’s finger slide past his lips and back out, catching a peek of that dull pink tongue as he licked off a stray blot of confection.

Harry banged his knee on the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll see you in the common room,” he said a little more gruffly than he’d intended to his tablemates.

“Malfoy’s really getting to you, isn’t he?” Ginny asked, irritatingly observant and spot-on.

Luckily, Ron stepped in, sparing Harry the need to come up with something to say other than, “Yes, and as his mouth is threatening to make me blow a load in my pants, I’d really best be off.”

“Of course, he is,” Ron asserted. “The ferrety git joined up with Voldemort but was too much of a coward to do anything, so he got off scot free after Harry did the cleanup. He should be in Azkaban or mopping up vomit in Knockturn Alley. He should not be allowed to finish up his schooling with the rest of us.”

“Honestly, Ronald, I loathe Malfoy as much as anyone, but I can’t see what good it does—” Hermione started.

“Er... right, then,” Harry erupted, inadvertently making eye contact with Malfoy as he was pulling his finger over his lips. Hermione looked positively scandalised at being interrupted. “Sorry.” He shot her an apologetic look and all but ran from the Great Hall.

It was barely 8:00, but Harry went to bed anyway. Tomorrow was Saturday, and he figured he could go for a fly over the lake to clear his head before anyone woke up. Then he’d eat an early breakfast, get started on his Potions scroll, and try desperately not to sneak off for a Malfoy-inspired wank.

Harry had found himself obsessed with Malfoy’s mouth sometime between the smile he caught during the Battle at Hogwarts after Harry had Stunned an ornery Death Eater and before Ron punched that grin off of Malfoy’s face, and the look of his lips trembling around the word “Guilty” at his trial. He’d always guessed Malfoy would try to deny his involvement in the war, or claim the Imperius, but he didn’t. Malfoy, terrified as he was, sat up straight, looked Minister Shacklebolt in the eyes, and admit his guilt in the war.

Luckily for Malfoy, Shacklebolt was nothing if not reasonable and decided that since he had been brought up in a Death Eater-sympathetic environment, he as a child could not be entirely blamed for his wartime behaviour, despite being 17 for the bulk of his crimes. Malfoy was sentenced to five years probation, which basically meant that his wand would be monitored and travel between countries had to be planned out with and approved by the Ministry at least one month in advance. Surprisingly, Harry never caught Malfoy complaining about his probation. Perhaps the war had humbled him a bit, after all.

Malfoy’s mental state was not a large player in Harry’s attraction, as Harry hadn’t spoken to Malfoy since they resumed classes but to say, “Right, I’ll just need a pickled newt tail,” after accidentally brushing past him in the Potions store cupboard. Malfoy had raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, but made no other reaction. Harry hid the intense blush by fumbling about with several jars whose labels he couldn’t read through the excess blood coursing through his skull.

Having gone to bed at 8:00, Harry flipped about for two hours until, being frustrated by bedsheet-entangledness, he wriggled out of his nest, grabbed his Cloak, and went for a walk.

He stopped by the kitchens to chat with Kreacher, who was berating Scuttles for an improperly folded napkin. “Never horizontal! Always diagonal!”

“Kreacher,” Harry said, “Leave Scuttles alone.”

“Anything for Master Potter,” Kreacher bowed. “How can Kreacher be of service?”

After several biscuits and demonstrations of Kreacher’s power over the other elves, Harry was finally feeling sleepy. He said goodnight to the kitchen staff and ambled back towards Gryffindor Tower. On his way, he passed the Prefect’s bathroom and idly thought that a bath might be nice.

He whispered the password and entered the luxurious bath, immediately shedding clothing, dropping his cloak just inside the door, his t-shirt a few feet from there and his trousers, pants and socks just at the edge of the bath. He decided on a lavender-scented bath with just a hint of cinnamon. He toed at the water, making sure it was just a little too hot, before sinking in.

Harry lounged in the bath not feeling particularly inspired to actually clean himself. He considered falling asleep, but figured that he would probably drown and then he’d really be Myrtle’s wet dream. He chuckled to himself about the bad pun.

Since there was nothing else to do and there was no one but him enforcing guilt, he decided he’d give in and think about Malfoy for a while. Malfoy’s lips, Malfoy’s tongue, Malfoy’s cock, Malfoy’s arse, even Malfoy’s eyes. He repositioned himself in the tub, closing his eyes and fondling his cock, envisioning Malfoy’s clothing falling off piece by piece until he was naked and kneeling, his pretty lips wrapped around Harry’s prick.

Harry was jolted out of his reverie by the sound of a door opening. He turned to see Malfoy of all people entering the dimly lit bath. “Malfoy...” he whispered. Due to the heavy air, his entirely relaxed state, and the impossible coincidence, Harry concluded that he was dreaming.

Malfoy couldn’t get out a startled, “Potter!” before Harry was on him, wet and hard and entirely naked.

Harry pressed Malfoy against the door he’d just entered through, holding his hips flush against Malfoy’s, covering the other’s mouth with his own. Malfoy tasted like electricity and panic and Harry smiled against his lips.

“Potter!” Malfoy yelped, turning his head to the side and opening his neck to Harry’s kisses. “Has a grindylow nestled into your skull? What are you doing?”

Malfoy was trying to push Harry off of him, and Harry, out of his mind with lust, was pushing back, trying to latch his mouth onto Malfoy’s again.

“Potter,” Malfoy whimpered, beginning to lose gusto in his struggle, “You’re making my clothes all soggy.”

Harry, pressing his face into Malfoy’s neck, replied, “Then take them off.”

Malfoy seemed to consider this for a moment, struggled a bit more for good measure, and soon enough gave in to Harry’s onslaught. A very haughty, proud, Malfoy version of giving in, which to Harry felt more like spirited participation.

Malfoy outmanoeuvred Harry, wrestling him into the submissive position against the door, which Harry didn’t mind, as Malfoy was tearing off all of his own clothing and ramming his tongue into Harry’s mouth so hard it was nearly painful.

“In a rush, are we?” Harry said as Malfoy broke from his mouth to pull his shirt over his head.

“Shut your mouth. I’ve better things to do than wait around for you to undress me like some bloody blushing girl,” Malfoy said as he pulled off both his trousers and pants in one go.

“Not complaining,” Harry said just as Malfoy’s lips were closing in on his own again. Malfoy wound his hand into Harry’s hair and Harry pulled him in closer, pushing his cock past Malfoy’s, which was rapidly stiffening. In part of his mind, Harry imagined what Malfoy would say if he mentioned the erection and found himself thinking that there was something decidedly endearing about Malfoy’s attitude of constant outrage and aggression.

Harry stuffed down these thoughts, as Malfoy’s personality was not of particular interest to him. He was more concerned with the way Malfoy’s kisses had lost some of their violent fervour. Having established his dominance, Malfoy seemed content to explore the limits of hard and soft, of tongues and lips and teeth, of gasps and of moans.

Malfoy’s lips were every bit as soft as Harry knew they would be. They were pliant and slick and inviting, always begging for more. Harry obliged, kissing Malfoy as though it were the only thing that gave him life. Harry’s chest was full of fire and his eye sockets stung with the intensity of this kiss, of feeling Malfoy whole and solid and real against him. He was not dreaming, he knew, because he never forgot to breathe in a dream.

Harry’s hands explored all of Malfoy he could reach. His skin was almost as smooth as it looked, and when Harry brushed his fingers over Malfoy’s arse, he shuddered.

“I don’t know what you’re doing or why and if you tell anyone I swear on my fortune I will—”

“Malfoy,” Harry interrupted, taking the break from the kiss as an opportunity. “Get on your knees and put that mouth to good use.”

Malfoy’s jaw dropped with an unintentional comic flair. “I will not!” He crossed his arms over his chest, which just looked silly on his naked frame, his cock hard and heavy and demanding attention.

Harry paused, wondering how best to seduce Malfoy. “Please?”

Malfoy’s eyebrows squished together and his lips went crooked. “Well,” he said. “When you put it like that.” He looked Harry in the eye and Harry momentarily felt like he’d been Stunned. “But don’t think that I’m doing this for you.”

The spell was broken. “Of course not,” Harry humoured, holding his hands out in front of him to indicate non-aggression.

Malfoy Summoned Harry’s clothing and bunched it up into a pile at Harry’s feet. Harry noted that Malfoy had gently brushed all of his own clothing to the side as he rested his knees on the makeshift cushion.

Harry’s head was spinning despite Malfoy’s contrariness. His cock was throbbing as though it, too, knew where it would soon be and it Could Not Bloody Wait. Without so much as a glance upwards, Malfoy engulfed Harry’s cock with his mouth.

Harry called out, blinded by the intense wet heat of Malfoy’s perfect mouth. He wasn’t sure he could ever appreciate Malfoy’s dessert-eating in quite the same way now that he’d seen Malfoy sucking a cock. His cock in particular. Harry had always known he’d enjoy it; what surprised him was how much Malfoy seemed to be enjoying it. He moaned lightly on nearly every down stroke, bobbing his head with enthusiasm and what Harry supposed was the closest thing to tenderness he could muster.

Harry fought to keep his eyes open and watching so that he could catalogue every second of this encounter. Having Malfoy’s mouth around him was an impossible gift, he knew, if only for the fact that it made the boy stop talking for minutes on end. Harry could feel himself blushing at the way Malfoy would pull his mouth off of Harry’s prick and tongue his foreskin as though it were an exotic fruit that must be savoured.

Malfoy had one hand around the base of Harry’s cock and the other wrapped around the back of Harry’s right thigh. He subconsciously squeezed Harry’s leg every time he moaned, kissing up and down Harry’s shaft before wrapping his mouth around its entirety.

“Touch yourself,” Harry said without thinking, and he could see the defiance in Malfoy’s eyes as he looked up, but after a moment he obeyed, fisting his own cock and positively whimpering around Harry’s prick.

Harry knew he could not take much more, despite his best efforts to make this moment last forever. “Fuck, I’m going to come,” he muttered. At Malfoy’s satisfied-sounding moan, Harry felt safe in saying, “I can come in that sweet mouth or on it. Your choice.”

In a strange turn of events, Harry caught Malfoy’s smile around his penis as he redoubled his effort and fisted his own cock even more ardently.

Harry lasted a few moments longer, but the sound and sight of Malfoy on his knees masturbating with Harry’s cock in his mouth was too much. He let out a deep moan and watched as Malfoy greedily sucked down every drop of Harry’s come.

When he was well and truly spent, Malfoy released his cock and Harry sank down the wall to the floor.

Within a few seconds, Malfoy had pushed Harry onto his back and had crawled up his body, straddling his face and rubbing his leaking cock against Harry’s chin.

“Your turn,” he said, pushing his cock past Harry’s lips.

And then Harry understood why Malfoy seemed to have been enjoying himself so much. Harry perked up at once, digging into Malfoy’s arse with his fingers and taking all that he could of Malfoy’s cock.

Malfoy set the pace and rhythm and Harry could only control the amount of saliva and suction and the way he held onto the delectable flesh of Malfoy’s arse.

“Yes,” Malfoy hissed. “Suck my cock like a good little whore.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he stared up into Malfoy’s face, seeing the shiest hint of shock and uncertainty there. With Malfoy’s cock in his mouth, arse in his hands, and face in his line of sight, Harry became aware that Malfoy was too fucking gorgeous to be hung up on just one feature. He was partially aware that he was moaning around Malfoy’s delicious prick and he didn’t care so long as Malfoy’s mouth didn’t stop spilling filthy sentiment.

Things like, “Fuck, Potter, if I’d known you sucked cock so well, I’d have fucked your mouth ages ago,” and “I wonder if you fuck as well as you suck,” and, most recently, “I’m going to come all over that pretty face,” made Harry’s skin tingle and his chest fill up with smoke.

Malfoy’s rhythm became erratic and, without warning, he pulled his cock out of Harry’s mouth, shooting semen all over Harry’s neck and chin and mouth. When he was spent, he rubbed the head of his cock against Harry’s chin for a moment, letting out little moans, which Harry soaked up along with the feeling of Malfoy’s come dripping down his neck.

Malfoy was still for a moment and then, without so much as a sigh or a nod, he stood and began dressing. Harry watched Malfoy put his clothing back on and found it somehow more erotic than anything they’d done. He was too sated to move or speak, so he simply watched as Malfoy righted himself.

As he was reaching for the door handle, Harry spoke.

“You’ve forgotten to take a bath.”

Malfoy paused and looked Harry in the face, saying, “Well, then I suppose I’ll just have to come back tomorrow.”

Malfoy shot Harry the slightest of grins accompanied by a raised eyebrow before he exited the bath.

Fuck. Malfoy had become his undoing.

**Author's Note:**

> **Rather comment on LiveJournal? Join the conversation[here](http://teprometo.livejournal.com/19006.html#comments).**


End file.
